Counting to two
by ipodder
Summary: He's willing to count to a hundred thousand million for her, and even when he's finished, he's certain that she'll still be everywhere with him. Clay/Sarah oneshot. Inspired by 7x07.


**AN: Hey guys, now I know I usually write Brooke/Julian stories, but after watching (and shamelessly tearing up) over Clay/Sarah the other night, I kind of became inspired to try something different. I don't know enough about them as individuals and as a couple, so it's not a lengthy one shot, but I hope you all give it a chance and enjoy it nevertheless. Please leave a review or let me know what you think!**

Sometimes he sees her, sometimes she's only a distant spray of perfume on his pillow, other times she's hidden in the chords of _their_ Willie Nelson song.

But now, more lately, she's _right there_ in front of him, and he doesn't really know if he's going crazy.

Or because he missesher like _crazy. _

Despite this, there's an annoying nagging at the back of his mind, suggesting that it's his guilty conscience, derived from new found feelings (or something like that) for Quinn James.

Just like he often did when she was alive, whether it be the color of his button down, what he wants to order from the chinese restaurant, which client he should drop from the agency, he needs her _approval_, he needs her to say okay and smile at him like he's the best guy in the world.

Now it's nothing to do with his clothing choice, their meals or his work, he maybe wants to try give Quinn a chance, for her to become a fraction of what Sarah meant to him. But before he is willing to do that, he _needs_ her to just give him a sign, a blessing.

How dare she move on without waiting for him? Leaving him to fill the void with sex and parties.

Sarah is just _Sarah_, there's no one better for him, but her.

But now that he wants to _try_ to move on, there she is again, not letting him do so, pulling him back with memories and visions of her smell, her smile and that horrible nail varnish she claims to hate. She's fucking _everywhere_, and he can't bare to drive her away.

She's there in the shower, just as he's scrubbing soap into his skin so hard it might bleed, she's lingering on the empty side of his usually occupied bed, she's there sizzling bacon in the frying pan when he's grabbing the coffee mugs.

Sometimes, more often now, he brings out two mugs, two sets of plates and utensils. He can almost hear her faint mockery of his mismatched plates, and if he squints hard enough, he'll be able to see her smirk at his messy hair and boyish grin.

It took him three months to be able to smile like that again. It was her birthday, three months after she died. He was drinking a bottle of tequila, with _their _song on repeat, _Friends, _her favourite show came on, and he couldn't help but crack a smile.

_That_ was his present for her. Because obviously the first edition of her favourite novel (stored in the back closet) wouldn't be any good now.

When he cautiously, but confidently first entered the world of money, sex and powerful people, she was there beside him, wearing a stunning red dress, her hair so soft and long, framing her face, her hand clutching his. But the more she was there, the more he just wanted to take her home and straight into their bed.

So after a month, he took a blonde model named _Sally _back instead, but he didn't let her anywhere near the bed. _It was Sarah's place_, and no one else's to even touch.

When he woke up, mildly satisfied and hungover, all he could see was _Sally _smiling and winking at him in a way that's supposed to be sexy.

All he _wanted _to see was _her_ smile and and sip the coffee she always makes so well.

Then came a few more blondes with their names starting with the letter _S, _then it soon became any attractive blonde he could find, then were a few Sarahs in the bathroom of various bars and clubs.

Pretty soon after rhat, it was any women.

Anyone but _her._

It was fun and distracted him for a long time. But he couldn't really let himself enjoy it like he should, with every new phone number, every dinner reservation for two, he feels her disappointment, her disapproval following him around everywhere.

He used to think it was her _nagging_ and angry, he has realized now that it was just her _protecting_ him.

She just won't go away, even when he threw their framed photo against the wall in a moment of rare anger, even when he stood at the grave, screaming at her, blaming her for his misery.

His best didn't seem enough for him, he hasn't been giving work his all, relationships with his clients his all. He sees the Scott family, he sees pictures of Lucas, Peyton and Sawyer, and sees how Brooke and Julian wind each other up, but coming back to each other all the same, and he's _bitter and jealous_.

He needs her to be here with him, for him to become better.

Why doesn't he have someone to come back to? Someone to fight for, someone to spoil and love and care for.

Well, he did, but he lost her.

And when he lost her, there were parts of him that will probably never want to be found again.

She's here with him, everywhere surrounding him. She's in the mixed colors of his eyes, in the laughter lines that are engraved on his face, her smell on his old t shirts, her movie preference stacked in the dvd cabinet.

She's been _here_ with him more often and frequent than usual, like she's trying to tell him something.

Like _seeing _him like this pains her as much as it pains him to live without her.

She _wants _him to move on, to not forget her, but to open a new door.

He doesn't want her to disappear though, not ever. He still wants her laughter in the background when he's trying to work, her sarcastic knowing voice when he messes up, and for her to _stickwithhimforeverandalways._

But if she wants him to move on, to start living properly like he hasn't done since with her, then he'll do it.

If she wants him to open up to more possibilities, even if it's another woman, he'll do it. Because he's never denied her anything and always wants to please her.

He'll start by telling Nathan and Haley about her, just _because_.

And then everything else will hopefully work out with time.

Most things aren't as simple as counting to two, it wasn't when he jumped off that bridge, it wasn't when he said those three words, and it certainly wasn't when he saw her body being lowered to the ground, his wedding band going down with her. Sometimes he wishes he kept the ring, just to remember that day.

But then he can just look down at his left hand, and _she'll _come flooding back to him like unforgotten slides of their life together.

Although it's ridiculous for her to even think that it'll take a count of two to replace her, he's willing to try.

He's willing to count to a hundred thousand million for her, and even when he's finished, he's certain that her laugh will still be heard through the air, her perfume sprayed across his pillows, nail varnish bottles scattered across the bathroom sink.

He wishes she would _come back,_with the count of two.


End file.
